Editorial – Affordable housing needed

I want to assure the SD&G Fire and Emergency services that all my smoke detectors are in great working order. They have recently been tested under realistic conditions. I was cooking.

After decades of trying, I am now pretty certain that my talents, whatever they are, do not lie in the area of the culinary arts.

This is unfortunate, as the one thing I take great delight in doing is eating. Italian, French, Asian, Southern…well, I have yet to meet a style of cooking that I couldn’t love. And think home made bread, think butter tarts and squares, flaky crusted pies and cakes with exotic names like Black Forest and Rum Baba. All of them lovingly made – by other people.

Actually, I think about food like that all the time. I never think raw broccoli.

I honestly mean well in the kitchen. I have several cook books given to me by friends who have experienced dinner at my house. I have two pots. I have a meat thermometer, just as soon as I remember where I put it four Christmases ago. (Might still be attached to that unfortunate turkey that got left in a 500 degree oven.). I have a single roasting pan, lid missing, and one glass pie plate with something stuck around the edges that resists all known cleansers. I have a knife, but it’s broken.

So, all the essentials. I also keep a quick list right beside the stove with helpful hints such as the phone number for Poison Control and the 800 number for Ask-A-Nurse/Practitioner.

Honestly, things just seem to go wrong when I cook.

Who knew yeast had a life span? You could have anchored a yacht to that particular loaf of bread.

Who knew that you don’t pour an entire mickey of rum into a single Christmas cake just because the batter still appears to be absorbing it?  (You don’t want to know the condition of my guests following dessert.)

And apparently there is considerable difference between four tablespoons of soy sauce and four tablespoons of tabasco sauce. Just ask the people invited for that particular tuna casserole.

Back to the smoke detectors.

I wasn’t actually in the kitchen. Instead I was out on the patio, directly under the open kitchen window learning to use my new barbecue. As it was cool out, with a fairly stiff breeze, all other windows and doors in the house were firmly shut.

I gather, now, that burgers may be slightly over done if there are huge columns of smoke pouring from them, and they have become the size of briquets. The other thing that didn’t register was the wind was blowing all that black smoke from the grill through the open window. It was quite a lot of billowing smoke. 

I finally got all the smoke detectors turned off. However, I’m told the odour of charred beef is going to take somewhat longer to disappear. (We went out for dinner.)

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So this one scary night….October 31st…Halloween….my sister and I were just about to head out for our annual trick-or-treat, equipped fully with our Laurel and Hardy costumes and pillowcases. 

One thing you should know before we get too far into the story is that we grew up across from a cemetery, and to us, it was never a big deal as it was just always there.  As a matter of fact playing in the park and playing in the cemetery was an everyday thing for all the kids who lived on our street. 

Anyway, back to the scary night…..so off we set on our trick-or-treat adventure, it was  always a bit of a competition between me and my sister who could get the most stuff, which now as I think back seems a bit funny since we went to every house together and got the same things.  

As we were leaving our house, we couldn’t help but notice the odd smell in the air.  But to two little girls, taking note was about all we did, as getting candy was our main priority!

As we crossed the park to head over to the next street for goodies, something else strange happened.  Just as we were passing the swing set all the swings started to swing on their own.  We were a little freaked out to say the least.  

My sister grabbed my hand and yelled “run”!  And run we did, all the way to the creek (Stewart Drive did not exist back then).  Once we finally stopped to catch our breath we realized that I had dropped my pillowcase that was full of goodies from all the fine folks on Orchard Way.  

So after a few minutes of consultation, we decided we were brave enough to head back (plus it was the only way to get home, so we really had no choice).  As my sister led the way, I stayed close by her side.  As we reached the edge of the park, we thought we could see the outline of my pillowcase right near the swings.  

Just at that moment, a group of kids we knew where coming down the street, so not to look as though we were scared out of our wits, we stopped to talk to them for just a bit.  Once they were gone, we very slowly headed into the park.  

As we approached the swings my pillowcase was nowhere in sight!  OMG!  Where did it go?  We looked around, by the play structure, in the tube (the black tube for those of you that remember), by the merry-go-round, it was nowhere.  But we knew it had been there…we saw it!

All of a sudden, that smell returned.  It was an odd smell, not bad necessarily, just odd…cold wet dirt, mixed with that forest kind of smell.  Almost in perfect sequence Laurel and Hardy turned towards the cemetery, and there it was….laying just beside a tombstone….my pillowcase!  Aaawwww!  RUN….probably never so fast in all my life!  Pretty sure my sister knocked me down trying to get through our front door!

At the time we were fairly certain that something had risen from the cemetery and taken my pillowcase. Looking back some time later, we cam to the conclusion that someone had played a prank on us. To a little Laurel and Hardy though, it was the spookiest thing every.

Although I have never been afraid of living near a cemetery, every Halloween, I remember that very eerie night.

Leanne Sullivan

[…]

Lent–What's it all about?

Lent – taken from the German or Dutch word Lenz; known as the season between winter and summer; a time of 40 days before Easter, beginning with Ash Wednesday, the seventh Wednesday before Easter.

The Christian Church called the season before Easter lent. It would have been awfully confusing to tell people that the church season of Lent was in lent. 

So to ease the confusion somewhat the term “spring” was introduced many centuries ago. It literally referred to the springing up of plants and other life as the temperatures warmed up.

Lent in the Christian tradition is that time when we are charged to reflect on our lives and a take stock of who we are. It is a time for preparation for Easter, a time of rededication of the faithful and a time to teach those who are new to Christianity about the faith and to prepare them for baptism. 

This is the time in the church year when I am reminded – and not all that gently – to recommit myself to a lifestyle that is essential to me being a faithful Christian. The liturgy that we Anglicans follow on Ash Wednesday spells it out very plainly. 

We are invited to “observe a holy Lent by self-examination, penitence, prayer, fasting and almsgiving, and by reading and meditating on the word of God.” 

Some of the items in this list aren’t all that onerous… especially praying and reading the word of God. 

It’s the self-examination, penitence, and fasting with which most of us struggle.  The question that arises is how can I possibly do all of this?

If we are intentional about observing Lent we will find ourselves being more fully engaging with the path that Jesus walked as he spent 40 days in the wilderness. That time in the wilderness gave him the chance to do all of the things that we are called to do in Lent.

It was the time Jesus needed to prepare for his ministry with the people and ultimately to prepare for his death and resurrection. It is our time to prepare for our own ministries – whatever they might be – and to enter fully into the joy of the resurrection. 

So, my friends, are you up for the challenge??

Blessings, Sue+

P.S. To all of you out there who get to celebrate on the actual date of your birth, Happy Birthday!

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